think human
by salty nap princess
Summary: She was his little mermaid – Mermaid AU, Hans-centric (Hans Week 2019 — Day 4: Alternative Universe)
1. i - sell your sorry soul

**Notes 1**: DON'T. SHIP. THE. REDHEADS! — Hans is 23 and Ariel is 16 in this fic; ship them in any another setting or fic but not this one. Dear Lord, I cannot make it clear enough that this story is about found family. There is zero romance involved.

**Notes 2**: This AU takes place between_ Frozen II_ and _The Little Mermaid._ This fic started off as a trippy dream I had (my dreams rarely makes sense, man) but through discussion with friends, it became an adventure/redemption arc thing with a sprinkle of murder. I don't know what this is, but this is going to be so much fun to write!

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**think human **

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**i**

**sell your sorry soul**

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These stupid people, they think love exists and mermaids don't! But, you and I know the exact opposite: love doesn't exist and mermaids do!

—** Rusalochka** (1968)

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His punishment was penance.

It was something he didn't have to do; choose compensation, but did. And for what? To punish himself? To make up for his intended misdoings? His foolishness? His 'regret'? It may not show his remorse, not entirely, but it shows the guilt hidden deep _deep_ **deep**, burrowed within the recesses of his heart.

Knee deep in horse dung, Hans spends time pushing himself, his arduous decision feeling like an eternity of freshly slit wounds. He digs the heavy soil from the break of dawn until the high rising sun dips low. He shovels until his back aches and his hands blister, until he is drenched in sweat and his arms are searing in pain, burning like they are on fire.

He does all this, but still, _it is not enough, _seemingly _insufficient_. It will never be enough to pay for his crimes and vile actions.

And so, Hans has his royalty lineage, citizenship and dignity stripped away. He is exiled from the comfort of man — shipped off like cargo — sent away from the Isles that he despises with a bad aftertaste.

The king does not make himself present when the day of Hans' departure arrives, choosing to be absent (like he always has been, missing for a large duration of the redhead man's childhood). And his brothers — they jeer. Out of pettiness and ignorance, they relish in the satisfaction that competition for the throne has been weakened. Hans ignores them, concentrating on Lars who bites the bottom of his lip and clenches his fists.

His mother, the queen, approaches him. She keeps her distance but Hans does not resent her for keeping away, he can see how this banishment is breaking her heart. Her green eyes regard him. 'You be good now,' she seems to say, the last bit of wisdom she'll _ever_ be able to pass on to him, and he nods, as if promising; the last dedication he'll give to her.

This was his brothers' idea — their _clever_ idea — to ship him off in the dead of the night, when the moon is high and the sea is a deep, inky black. They had planned this, so when the sun rises and the day is anew, it would have seemed like Hans himself is nothing but a bad dream; nothing but an illusion. He will be forgotten, like writings on the sand when waves wash.

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The only thing Hans gets to keep is the clothes on his back and his name. Though, Hans is sure, if his brothers had the power to, they would have stripped him of that too, their last name: Westergaard. The one thing left that links them to his shame.

The ship is small, cramped (and pathetic); the captain and his crew do not acknowledge the predicament of the former prince. They do not offer him a room nor any food and drink nor even a smile. They treat him like the usual common folk, just as how Hans treated everyone during his time of power — invisible.

Hans finds himself in a nook, hidden behind barrels, and soon, he finds sleep too. But, his dreams are anything but sweet, plagued with nightmares. When he awakes, his knees are drawn to his chest and he starts counting to pass the time. He counts the number of men on board. He counts the several moments they yell at each other and then towards the weather patterns. He counts the cracks on the surface on the plank floors, the beams above his head that could crush him and canons perfectly aligned.

He stares solemnly at the seagulls, who squawk and soar, the ones that are free to fly. They aren't prisoners like him.

And when he is done glaring, he continues counting; the stitching in his worn-out gloves, the growing disappointments he's faced in his miserable twenty-three years of living, and then he counts his sins.

He wishes for death. He prays for it like it is a blessing.

.

.

.

Heavy clouds darken the sky and lightning strikes; a dreadful storm is approaching.

The sea, she is becoming restless. Her waves toss the ship, rocking the man-made creation up and down like she is angry, as if she wants the ship and the crew to know they do not belong and are trespassing.

It is not a sight worth seeing, with salty seawater rushing in, the captain and his crew shout over roaring winds, trying to secure the sails. But, it takes a single wave, as high as a mountain, to end it all. The ship falls apart and becomes unsalvageable.

There is no mercy. Not for the captain. Not for his crew. Not even for a former-prince.

.

.

.

His limbs are growing tired and his emerald eyes are closing. He is sinking into the deep waves — into cold waters and into the pitch black abyss.

He expects himself to drown and to wither. Life has never been too kind to him. Life has always been a cruel master. This is fitting; the perfect end. Being one of the many corpses not found at sea, unable to be buried and marked with a gravestone, unable to find peace.

But then, a miracle happens. A silhouetted approaches; someone dives after him, movements as skilled as a fish or the mythical sea creatures rumoured from the fjords. Though his strength is fleeting and his vision is blurred, Hans swears he sees a flash of bright red. He feels a pair of arms grasping him to the surface, keeping his head above the water. He is too busy coughing, sucking in air greedily to thank whomever that had saved his life.

The storm is still on-going, rain landing in his eyes. The sharp pain that shoots through his body tells him that he is hurt, injuries probably cut by strewed planks.

He is dragged to a coast where the sand is soft under his worn body. He sputters but cannot speak. And just as he's about to lose his consciousness, he feels a small hand stroke back his wet hair — almost warm and lovingly — and the pressure of something cool pressed into his side soothes him to the land of sleep.

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**Notes 3**: I'm adding chapter titles because I can't decide on one name. If I have to settle, then the name of this fic is gonna be so long that it resembles a _Panic! At the Disco_ song title. I started a discussion with my friend and he just kept going, "No, that title doesn't fit! It needs to be more depressing!" but I didn't want to give anything away so … here are many titles.

**Notes 4**: While trying to find a story title, I re-read **the little mermaid **and everything **Hans Christian Andersen** writes is description? Like, most of it is all description and rarely is there dialogue so I'm gonna try to mimic this flow, then I'll return to my normal dialogue writing style in the following chapters.

— **18** **July 2019**


	2. ii - a paper boat at sea

**think human **

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**ii**

**a paper boat at sea**

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When Hans awoke, the sore of his back, arms and legs are the first familiarities he registers. It was constant — _there_ — but no pain he hasn't grown accustomed to, no change from a day's worth of labour.

What was new, though, was cold of his body, the hurt in his head and the greeting of his surroundings: the sight of an intricate ceiling staring back at him.

For a brief moment, Hans doubts the sunlight streaming into the room and the warmth of the bed.

"It's good to see you're awake." An old voice says, a sound gentle enough to soothe his aching body.

The tone of her voice lulls Hans to feel safe, and he turns his head to face the person, expecting no harm. A middle-aged woman with crow's feet and smile lines grin at him.

"It's good to see you too." Hans manages though his throat feels raw and dry. He genuinely means it, the fact that he isn't a corpse at the bottom of the ocean floor looking at fish means something.

"You're a polite one, aren't you? It's good that you have manners, I expected as much, your clothes do little to disguise your fine upbringing." The woman says to him, somewhat playful. "You slept for a long time. Three days."

His head hurt too much to think but the news shocked him anyway. _Three days._ Still, it's a miracle that he woke up at all.

Attempting to boost himself up to a sitting position, his arms shaking with effort. It's probably not wise, but he doesn't think he can spend any more days laying down.

The old woman's hand reaches out to stop him. "Don't get up, you're wounded." She says.

_Wounded?_ He doesn't feel any pain. Or maybe his body's just used to the feeling.

"Lie back down, there's no such thing as too much rest." She instructs him.

He does as he's told. Somehow, it takes effort to do that too. Weak. He feels _so weak._

Hans sucks in a deep breath then finally asks, "Where am I?"

"The church." She answers.

_The_? So there's only one? Is he one a small island?

He looks at her clothes. "Are you a nun?" Her kind eyes regard him softly. He will not lie, those eyes reminded him of his mother's.

"I am." She answers.

Hans doesn't know what to make of it. Is he safe staying here?

The nun seems to have read his thoughts well. Wanting to reassure him, she tells him, "Rest. I'll go get you some broth, you need your strength back."

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"What's this?" Hans asks the next day.

He had gathered enough energy to explore his surroundings (with his eyes, that is). There isn't much to do with his wound limiting him, he had finally felt the stab of pain when he had tried to sit up after the nun had retired for the night.

On his bedside laid his Southern Isles clothes, washed and neatly folded. It seems he's lost a glove. But, what truly catches his eye is the large sea green coloured fish scale. Did it come with him when he was dragged out of the ocean?

The nun smiles at the scale.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" She says and opens her palm.

Hans hands it over to her without a second thought.

She plucks the shiny thing and raises it towards the rays of sun — it sparkles and reflects like a mirror. "Truly, it's like finding a pearl at the bottom of the ocean. While the other nuns and I were cleaning you up, we found this scale covering your wound. It's almost like someone intentionally placed it there to stop you from bleeding out."

"Are you saying someone saved my life?" Hans asks, knowing well that he couldn't have swum himself to shore at such a state.

Her eyes dart to the hue of health on Hans' cheeks and she does not comment on anything else. The nun simply bobs her head in a nod and replies, "There's no other way around it."

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The next few days spent at the church are somewhat pleasant, with the nun and small polite talks and the quiet.

But, most of the time, it's lonely: with just him and his thoughts. There's not much to do but stare — at ceilings and the outside through a window and the green scale by his bed.

Hans is eager to be accepted in this new place. He would like to believe the _true_ reason behind his security at the church is its nature; a holy place, welcoming to all. However, there is a delusion within him. A resisting doubt. If this were the case, then why haven't the others spoken to him by now? Shouldn't someone else have approached him? Act in a carefree manner, visited 'the mysterious guest' held in a room by himself, asked him about his life-story and maybe make him laugh?

Someone should be curious about him, but no one except the lone nun sees him.

Is he invisible?

Hans thinks — he suspects, at least — that the only reason no one has asked him to leave is due to the fact that _they know_ of his identity. He believes the others aren't brave enough to haul him away. It's only a matter of time before the news of his crimes, history and striped title reaches the space he's residing at.

The knowledge of his status haunts him.

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"How did you become a nun?" Hans asks. He couldn't possibly talk _about_ himself, so he talks about her instead, about the nun.

Her kind eyes look outside the colourful glass window then back at him. "When I was still a girl," She begins her tale. "I was in love with a boy."

_Oh, spare me. Forget that I asked. _Hans thinks, the last thing he wants to hear is a love story.

"He was one of the young masters of the manor and I was a maid." The main continues. "He fell terribly sick one day, we all thought he was going to die. So, I prayed. And in that prayer, I told the Lord that I loved the young master and that I didn't want him to pass. In a desperate plead, I promised the Lord that if the young master was healed then I'd join the church. It worked." She smiles. "I left the same day the young master's fever broke."

Hans made a face, he doesn't think he'd ever make such a big sacrifice. "How long ago was that?"

"I don't recall, I haven't seen him since I left."

"Did you tell him about your …" How is he going to word this? "... endeavours before you went away?"

"I did not tell him, no. But, my love for him is still there despite my absence."

There's a pause on Hans' part, then he asks, "Was it worth it?"

The nun's smile broadens. Unlike Hans, she doesn't hesitate. "It was. Love doesn't end so easily. Of course, it helps that I fell in love again."

"With?" Is he about to hear a scandal?

She points upwards.

"God?" He asks. How did he not see such a predictable answer coming?

She gives him a look. "You may not have strong faith, but at least believe in love, there are many kinds."

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The church oddly reminds him of life back at the Isles — old haunting structures, authorities who ignore him and children screaming alike his nieces and nephews — and Hans wants to be anywhere but the Isles.

So he explores the grounds, sight-seeing the little garden and the churchyard and forgotten places until he stumbled upon a stone stairway that leads downwards. The large fish scale that he keeps in his pocket feels like a force tugging him towards the end of the stairs.

"Can I go down there?" He asks the nun the same day he had discovered it, his mouth hovering over the soup he was brought.

"You can." The nun replies. "I know it looks dark and scary, those stairs are old and most don't clean past the top steps, but feel free to explore it. If you follow the path, it leads to a lovely place. It leads to the sea, the spot where I found you."

"Will you go there again?" Hans asks.

"No." She shakes her head. "I rarely do. The Lord must have told me to visit the beach on the day I found you."

Hans manages a thankful smile.

"You should go — take a walk along the shore, enjoy the breeze. It's a good place to think, not many will disturb you there." With that, she smiles and pats his freckled hand.

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.

.

Hans came to understand why no one ventured to the sandy beach halfway down the long stretch of stairs; the old stairway isn't safe — the waves had crashed so violently over its history with the bricks and stone that it had collapsed the wall meant to keep the ocean out. The stairway laid exposed, crumbling, and slippery with seawater and algae.

Anyone could have easily slipped and fallen if not focused or careful, plummeting into the ocean and the rocks that lay beneath it. It was dangerous, but Hans never did learn when to stop at _anything_ — fighting, scheming, staring at Death in the face.

He ventures down the steps, smelling the salt in the air and feeling giddy at the possibility of sinking his feet into soft sand.

When he finally reached the bottom of the steps, he feels accomplished for some reason. Hans never would have guessed he'd feel this joyous over something so simple.

He turns to the sea.

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He came back to the beach almost every day when there was nothing to do — no chores to help with, no books to read to lonely orphan children, no penance to pay.

Hans would sit and stare, but never once did he swim out in the open waters. He didn't trust himself. The word 'weak' branded itself in his skull. _I am still too weak_, he tells himself.

The ocean greets him like an old friend. It should have been the last place he would have liked to visit, on the account that he almost drowned and died. But, Hans doesn't blame Mother Nature for taking back what is hers.

He scouts the sandy floors, feeling cold waves at his feet and seashells under his soles. The Southern Isles had hard rocks and smooth pebbles for its beaches' surfaces, a walk along the shore was never quiet.

Hans could tell it was about to rain by the grey of the storm clouds and the roll of the tides — and yet, he can't bring himself to move away from the spot he's standing at. The sea was ready to battle against itself and the wild wilds and maybe anything made by man, be it little fishing boats or grand battleships; death and destruction alike, he wants to witness it all.

He takes out the fish scale and lifts it towards the dimming light, he wants to be in his own head, but, for some reason, the sight of currents pulls him in. A large wave crashes against a large jutting rock decorated with barnacles, everything appears normal.

… until Hans hears a shriek, then sees a flash of red.

He immediately acts, edging towards the water.

"Hello?" He calls, pocketing what he was holding.

Whatever poor soul that had wound up on this beach couldn't have come by accident, no set of dying lungs could have screamed _that loud_. It's a voice filled with purpose.

"Hello?" Hans calls again, his ankles already splashing and deep in the mouth of the shore.

He sees big eyes peek at him from behind the rock then catches sight of wet, flaming hair.

_A girl?_ He wonders.

"Miss?" Hans says, coming closer.

"Go away f — from me!" Came the shutter of a response. She had an accent Hans' couldn't quite place.

Hans takes a step back, careful not to frighten her. "Are you alright?" He asks, the sea now up to his thighs.

The girl didn't reply, only staring at him in a timid way.

"Are you hurt?" Hans continues.

"_No._" Her reply sounded firm yet something about her tone tells Hans she's unsure of what to say next.

He believes the conversation they're having will be troubling, spoken in a language that is not in her native tongue. There's probably going to be a lack of understanding between them.

After a moment of hesitation, she slowly utters, "I am ... swimming."

_I can see that._ Hans thinks.

Then he sees something else: a bare shoulder. Was she ... nude? He does **not** need or want to know. Should he leave? But, what's a girl her age doing exposing herself in such a vulnerable state?

"Do you need anything? Is there something I can do for you?" Hans asks, averting his eyes.

"I am ..." She pauses as if attempting to remember what word to use, then she mimics Hans' previous sayings to him. "I am alright." She continues, her accent heavier as she grows more uncomfortable. Maybe she feels exposed? It was understandable for her to feel so.

Hans sees her shift from the corner of his eye. He wants to give her privacy but can he allow a girl to be alone in such harsh waters when a storm is coming?

He opens his mouth to suggest for help, the nun's assistance, but then he sees something he shouldn't have: a fishtail. _Her _tail.

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**Notes**: This was supposed to be longer but I dunno how to write conversations/interviews with a mermaid so I'm gonna procrastinate on it in **iii**. I watched _YouTube_ videos and documentaries about mermaids but it's still difficult to decipher them as one thing (much less their language and culture) cause I've learned that people see them as two sides: the light and the dark, basically classic wifey material mermaids who give up their tails for some dick vs I'm-gonna-drown-you-and-eat-your-heart Sirens.

The reason behind this human/mermaid language barrier is because I don't think mermaids should familiarise themselves with human speech, it just seems unlikely. The mer-folk can memorise songs, I've memorised songs in another language, but they probably don't know what they're saying. King Triton was all like "Humans are bad!" so why should mer-folks take the time to learn whatever language humans speak and understand them? Some of us humans barely learn each other's language.

My other option was using _Google Translate_ and a thesaurus then hoping for the best, some of the results were hilarious outcomes!

Also, language-roadblock is based on experiences. Sometimes I go to the store and talk to people and they're like, "Oh, you're from X, I can tell by your accent!" I didn't know I was obvious but okay! Also, being multilingual is an experience itself and stories surrounding it helped, they're funny. Don't know the name of a fruit? Point to an apple and say, "I like its friend." See a mouse at a hotel and don't remember the word? Tell the service, "You know Tom and Jerry? Jerry is here." A guy at the store doesn't know the word for chicken. He grabs and egg and ask, "Where is mother?"

—** 25 October 2019**


	3. iii - the quiet undercurrent

**Notes 1**: **Hans Christian Andersen** talked about God (a lot) so I'm gonna add a dash of that, I think it helps somewhat with the plot?

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**think human**

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**iii**

**the quiet undercurrent of understanding**

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A mermaid.

Hans first questions his eyes then his mind. Is this real?

He stares at his company mutely, the little mermaid doesn't move either. They were both exchanging glances, observing one another.

She must know that he's noticed her shimmering green fishtail. Why isn't she leaping back to the ocean like a frightened animal?

Hans ponders over this fact ... then he recoils, reflecting back to days at the navy; at the tall tales and myths and the stories swapped while sailing the corners of the ocean.

_"The mer-folk will lure you in with their lovely voices then drown you and eat your heart."_ They use to say.

Is this all a trap? Is she luring him into the sea with her false vulnerability?

"Why are you here? What do you want from me?" Hans asks, not taking his emerald eyes off her as he inches back slowly.

_Am I crazy? I'm talking to a fish! _He scolds himself in his head.

"You did not expire when … when swimming." She says, the language barrier still there.

Is this girl really a mermaid? If his eyes weren't locked on her sea creature appearance, Hans wouldn't have thought so. By the way she's speaking to him, she sounds so human. _Too human._

Then she shows him a delighted smile. She may have sounded amazed and grateful that he didn't perish under the waves, but her sharp shark-like teeth tells him otherwise.

"I didn't die, no." Hans confirms.

"I … helped."

Hans blinks. "What?"

The little mermaid gestures to him. He only shakes his head in response. And when it occurred to her that he didn't understand, she pushed herself away from the shielding rock, exposing more of herself — to Hans' relief, she wasn't naked; scales covered her body, fitting her like a dress with no sleeves or strap; only her face, neck, shoulders and arms were human-looking.

She pulls back her wet hair and points to an area of her torso. "Red." She says. "Hurt."

Then she reaches forward and plucks a shedding scale from her tail. It mirrors the one he keeps in the pocket of his trousers.

"I helped swim." She adds.

He stares at her, then realisation slowly hits him.

.

.

.

"You saved my sorry soul."

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"I see you!"

Hans jerks his head and blinks. "Pardon?"

"I — I see you, it is good!" The little mermaid manages in her cheerful stupor.

It is good? It is — Oh!

"It's good to see you too." Hans answers. For a moment, he almost wondered if the little mermaid had read his mind and dug up his feelings of invisibility.

He's lonely but he isn't pathetically starved from interactions.

Despite that, he _has_ made it a routine to visit the beach every day to see _her_. Sometimes she spends an hour swimming near the shore, sometimes only minutes.

The little mermaid isn't the way fables portrayed her to be. Her tail is beautiful, yes, and her face is lovely with youth and rosy cheeks. But her teeth are also sharp to eat fish, her hands webbed, ears pointed and gills by her neck. Her eyes are doubled lidded like a crocodile too.

She is unknown to him. She could still be dangerous. He hasn't stepped in the water since their fateful first meeting. He only sits on the sandy beach and attempts at conversation.

The little mermaid points to the souvenir in his freckled hand and asks, "You keep?"

"It's a reminder." He replies. "You saved my life."

"Maybe." She squints her sea green eyes at him. "Humans cannot breathe underwater, correct?"

He nods. "I would have died."

"You are too baby to expire." She replies, her strange dialect catching his ears.

"What's your name? Do you have one?" Hans continues prodding at her, he can't help but be curious. He knows she is curious about him too.

She only smiles then says mischievously, "Secret."

"And why is that?" He asks again.

"You are human," She tells him like it's a reason.

"And humans cannot be trusted?"

But, she does not answer, only squinting. Then as quickly as she came, she vanishes, diving under the waves.

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He learns her age before he learns of her name.

The little mermaid is cautious, and he holds no grudges against her for this. She may have saved his life but he is still a stranger.

The telling of her age comes up when he questions her of her safety in the human world.

"Should you be on the surface and not down under?" Hans asks.

He's seen fishermen near-by and would be devastated if she were to tangle herself in nets. She wouldn't be eaten but she would most likely be slaughtered and kept as a hunter's prize like those stuffed animals.

He's worried. With her childish ways, he almost sees her like one of the orphans playing at the churchyard.

"I am sixteen, I am alright." She says naively.

He notes the seven year difference — a lucky number according to superstition. There's a lot of sevens when it comes to this little mermaid. This is the first time Hans has ever come across anything that's considered lucky. He hopes he doesn't ruin it.

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The mer-folk have a speech pattern that sounds familiar yet also otherworldly. Hans understands the little mermaid when she tells her tales to him, but there are times where he has to double-back. Not that it was a bad thing, he enjoyed the way she strung her words together, it reminded him of his younger days, learning languages and culture from his tutors, and his many years since he's studied, but there were still obstacles to overcome.

"How do humans talk?" She asks, hands on the rock that hoists her above the water. She sat a distant away; where, if he ran to her, she'd be gone by the time the waves reached his shins.

Hans thinks for a moment. Simply talking isn't enough. He wants to show her, not tell.

"I could read to you." He offers.

"Read?" She says like it's a foreign concept. She may be illiterate.

"The church has plenty of storybooks that the orphan children read. There are pictures too." Hans says.

"Story … about the human world?" She asks, gleeful.

"Do you enjoy learning about the human world?"

A large grin dominates her face. He'll take that as a 'yes'.

"I enjoy your company very much. It would be a good way to spend time together if you would let me read to you."

"Alright." She smiles at him, sharp teeth pointing.

.

.

.

He reads her children's stories from the small collection the church has. It doesn't take long before they run out of fairy tales, though the little mermaid does beg Hans to re-read stories where there is everything good; where a lovely, kind princess falls for a handsome, brave prince; where there is true love involved and a happy ending as a gift.

She is gleeful, claps every time the story ends and tells him how much she adores fables like these.

He returns her enthusiasm with a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

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"Shiny gifts, for the stories." She says as she tosses a handful of silver objects on the sandy floors.

"Where did you get this?" Hans asks. He picks up the silverware the mermaid has gathered and eyes the expensive cutlery.

She points to a set of houses on the other side of the beach. "Human family."

"They gave it to you?" Hans asks, genuinely surprised.

"No, they left the whatchamacallits by the shore." She explains.

She had started making up words after she had a suspicion that the words Hans was reading to her during weren't real. He had protested that was the opposite aim of their reading sessions but she relented.

"So you just took it?" Hans questions further.

She nods her head.

"You can't do that." Hans says, trying to keep his voice even. "You have to give it back."

"Why?" She sounds innocent as she says this.

"What do you mean 'why'? You can't go around stealing things."

She blinks her large doe eyes at him. "What is … 'stealing'?"

Clicking his tongue, Hans tries not to sound too harsh. He doesn't want her to think he's scolding her.

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"You look like him." She says, wet webbed hands touching the pictures in the books, ruining the pages with seawater. "Are you him? Are you … 'a faraway prince'?" She recites the passage of the page.

Hans smiles, but that is the only kind response he gives her. "No."

"Shall I call you 'Prince'?" She asks, starry-eyed, she's gotten better at stringing sentences together. "_My_ prince."

"Call me what you like." He answers.

After all, he hasn't given her his name either. If she's not willing to tell him hers, then he shall keep a few secrets of his own.

Secrets, like how he's lived through such fairy tales that she adores and yet he did not get a happy ending.

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"Why do you even want to know about the human world?" Hans finds himself asking one day.

If anything, he thinks his little mermaid friend should be more interested in her own world. The ocean has yet to be explored, but there are already so many stories like the undersea kingdom of Atlantica and the sunken city of Atlantis.

Hans holds his breath, waiting for an explanation.

She hums for a moment, choosing to float on her back. These are the rare times she gets to enjoy the feel on the sun fully on her skin.

"I want to be you." She answers, finally. "Human."

An unreadable expression etches itself on his face but she whines anyway — like she's heard it all, like she knows he'll protest.

"The mer-folk do not trust humans, but, Prince, the human world is wonderful, correct?"

"No, it's awful. Being human isn't all that grand." Look at him, he's a man without a title or country.

"Prince." She begs, sounding naïve and childish, but Hans doesn't budge.

_"What's 'stealing'?"_

He won't tell her this, but the fact that the mer-folk wouldn't know or care about sin makes them more alike to humans than they think.

"Prince, I want to be human because they have souls."

Hans snorts, thinking she's kidding, until he recognises the irritated flick of her fins.

"Mer-folk are soulless creatures?" He asks.

"Yes."

He stares at her, thinking. So, when everybody else had given up on him, this soulless creature had decided to save his life and give him a second chance?

"What will happen to you when you die?" He asks, more worried than curious.

She must have noticed his concern because she shakes her head as if brushing off an insignificant issue and says, "Nothing to cry over, the mer-folk live for hundreds of years. Humans have shorter lives, you are babies."

"That doesn't change the fact that you'll die. Where will you go?" He can't help but wonder. He felt like he was a child again, pondering if his cat would go to heaven if it didn't grasp the concept of morals; virtues and sin.

Her sea green eyes stare into the waters. "We ... expire." She speaks as if she'll fade like most things in this world. "But, there is a story. Cure to our soulless expiration. Love helps."

Love?

Oh, can't he escape from this nonsense?

"Love grants mer-folk souls. Our bodies turn to … seafoam and our souls live on. We become ... spirits of the sea breeze." This may be the closest explanation to the afterlife by non-humans.

He stares at her. He's not saying love is an easy achievement but … "Do mer-folk not believe in love?" Hans finds himself asking despite not really wanting to hear the answer.

"As much as humans believe in mermaids." She replies.

"So, very little?" He concludes.

Her face softens into a delicate, sad smile. "Yes, it is ... unfortunate."

_Maybe._ He thinks.

Then she dips the lower part of her face into the sea. A part of her wants him to ask her, 'And you? Do you believe?' so she adds in a smaller voice, "I do though. I believe in love."

He doesn't hear it, but the waves do.

;;

He's grown protective of the mermaid. She was just a girl, of age sixteen. Maybe he saw a part of himself in her, with her being the youngest out of seven sisters; bright red hair and sea green eyes. She was like a little sister to him. She was his little mermaid.

;;

"I want to be where the people are. I want to see them dancing." She says dreamily after Hans finishes reading a story about twelve dancing princesses.

"It sounds more like you want legs." He retorts. _Human legs._

"Ah, um," She fiddles with her hands and avoids Hans' gaze. "Now that I am sixteen, I can have legs."

"... But, you have a tail."

She shrugs, trying to act nonchalant but Hans can tell she's itching to say something. "I ... I should not tell you this. But ..." Her eyes stone with playfulness. "We mer-folk are not as helpless as we look."

He never thought she was helpless.

"We do have the … ability to walk on land. We can change form, like …" Her hands move around, searching for the right words. "Like … shedding skin, but we rarely do it."

"Is this the story you mentioned the other day?" Hans says.

"Yes. Do you want me to tell you, Prince? A gift for you reading to me."

"I don't mind."

"Many years ago," She says, copying his style of story-telling, making him chuckle. "A pact with a sea witch was made. There was trouble in the waters, there was nowhere else to go. The mer-folk were in danger so the sea witch granted them a gift: the ability to walk on land, but …" She pauses for effect and holds up two fingers, "... terms and conditions."

Hans almost laughs. Of course, there would be conditions. Villains are supposed to be crafty (unlike him).

He motioned for her to continue and, she does.

"For the price of human legs, mer-folk will lose their voice." She explains, curling a finger. The first condition.

She's about to launch into the second condition, but upon catching the face Hans made, the little mermaid tries to justify the reasoning.

"It is ... it is not as bad as you think, Prince, it is to keep mer-folk safe."

"I don't see how being mute constitutes as safe."

"If our people were to ever captured by bad humans, a loss of voice would mean they cannot reveal any of our underwater secrets, like where we live or who our friends and family are." She says, touching her throat. But even she seems saddened by such a thing. "You do not think it is fair?"

_I don't. Not at all. Wouldn't being mute also mean those who are captured cannot shout for help nor communicate?_ Hans thinks. _And mer-folk are illiterate so the odds are against them._

She sighs, "I think it is a small price to pay."

He disagrees. He thinks, putting herself in danger isn't a small price to pay. He didn't always catch everything the little mermaid said but he enjoyed talking to her. He liked the way the communicated.

"It is like I said, not many venture on land despite the opportunity. It is not safe and scary. We are alright now." She says, just as the church bells ring, causing the who redheads to notice the time. "It is late. I should swim back."

Hans nods.

"I will come back tomorrow. Can you read me more stories?" She asks innocently. Such a small request from a person like him. He would travel great lengths and slay monsters just to see her smile.

"Of course," He tells her, gathering the books he's collected for her. "As much as you like."

She flashes toothy him that grin that he's grown used to.

And when she leaves, diving back into the waters like an elegant swan, Hans realises he never did hear the second condition to trading her mermaid tail for a pair of legs.

;;

"Ariel." The little mermaid says as Hans is telling her stories. Stories about the human world, but never stories about himself.

"Are you correcting me again?" Hans asks, the last time his little mermaid friend had sworn a fork was actually called a 'dinglehopper'.

She shakes her head. "No." Pulling herself up and propping herself on a rock, she says, "It is my name. Ariel."

His green eyes widen. His mouth slowly turns upwards into a grin. He's about to open his mouth and says something, maybe something teasing. But then he notes the clouds of his breath. It's …

The sudden chill in the air sounds alarm bells in his head and he looks towards Ariel who's sensed it too.

"Prince?" She asks with panic in her voice and wraps her arms around herself. "The water is _cold_!" And her teeth chatter.

Hans doesn't get to reply. Doesn't even get to think. Because the sudden sight of the ocean freezing over is enough to cause his feet to move.

;;

**Notes 2**: Ah, yes, time for my useless knowledge (read as 'obsession') about mermaids to finally shine. I re-read **Hans Christian Andersen**'s **the little mermaid** and the scale part isn't canon. I must have read it somewhere in my childhood or my nanny might have added that part when she couldn't be bothered to tell me a new story and just went 'Welp, I'll just add some shit here and there, so the story runs a little longer and hope this brat falls asleep'.

**Notes 3**: So I decided while I was having a fever that it'd be best to work on this AU. **Tolkien** thought of **The Lord of the Rings** after a high fever and I thought I'd do the same. Get some madness in my writing.

So here I was, out of my mind; consumed nothing aside from soup, water, medicine and a lot of mermaid content, including dark fantasy like drowning and death — and I realise, according to my headcanon, since mermaid turns to seafoam when they die, then Ariel might not have knowledge on human death. If she wasn't curious about humans (anthropology?), she probably wouldn't understand how, when a human dies, the soul leaves but the body remains. Like, she's seen dead fish probs but fish are _a different story._ She's still fresh to the land world, she's a baby, she knows nothing. It's not odd to her that her body just disintegrates into the sea, like how a phoenixes turn to ashes when they die but … humans deaths? Human deaths are a mystery to ignored mermaids. To see a human body still intact if it dies, she might not think anything strange of it.

So I'm thinking, what if Hans dies via drowning, at sea, and Ariel's like, "Oh prince, you found a way to live underwater with me!" and he's obviously not saying anything but, the logic here is, when Ariel became human, she was mute too, so she might just think Hans has traded his voice to be able to live underwater. And he ain't swimming when she guides him (cause he's fucking dead) but she couldn't walk either the first time she transformed — she was clumsy and needed support, so she just drags his body around and happily says, "I'll teach you how to swim."

And after I went through this thought process of 'Oh yeah, that could totally happen', I sat with my head in my hands and thought, 'What the fuck, Sue?'

— **30 October 2019**

;;

**guest**

It was interesting the interaction of Hans with Ariel, now that he knows what she is what will he do? I find also intriguing the person and place that Hans is taken care of. It would be strange if they are avoiding him because of who he is. It would be against their belief.

**reply**

Hans has always been a lonely person, he would try to talk to Ariel given that she's 'the only person' aside from the nun that he spoke feel comfortable talking to.

It **is** against the church's belief to discriminate, I tried to word the scenario where it leans more towards Hans doubting himself/all in his head: 'Hans thinks', 'He suspects, at least', 'He believes'.

It's likely that the church wants to keep a respectable distance and doesn't want to bother Hans by asking him to tell his backstory or take of woe, but Hans wants to keep his secrets so nobody's getting anywhere, are they? Either could try to say something but … there's always a wall built before they met. I'm not blaming anyone on Hans' isolation but I never did think Hans had the best tactical skill, if he did then his plan to rule a kingdom would have worked. _Frozen_ had so many plot holes based on Hans' actions and I just headcanon that he's terrible at planning. He gets like 2 million ideas with a drop of a hat, but do they work? Nah man.

I would also imagine that the members of the church are actually very busy taking care of the church and garden and children. Those who have been/are involved with church know that there's always so much to do and so much going on.

Hans will understand the church better in the last chapter because it will continue to play a part.

Thanks for your curiosity and thanks for being kind :)


	4. iv - feet won't fail you now

**think human**

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**iv**

**feet won't fail you now, arms won't let you down**

;;

There are times his body acts before he can even think, before he can register his own muscles moving.

This is one of those moments; legs charging into the mouth of Hell, cold seawater soaking the cuffs of his pants, strong hands finding purchase on the little mermaid's arms. He throws her over his shoulder; like he has with other bodies in the past, during his days of training under the Southern Isles navy, during a trip up the North Mountain.

With her weight distributed evenly, whomever he is carrying is by no means heavy. Hans blocks out everything that isn't linked to _survival_ and _necessity_; the dismay rising out of a girlish throat, the slippery feeling of fish scales under his palm. Panic is in his veins, this could be a life or death situation, and he _cannot _afford to slow down until he reaches solid ground.

"Prince?!"

Hans isn't sure whether the audible gasp is directed at him or at the sight of the ocean freezing over. He doesn't have time to guess — his mind is too busy reeling to care, too occupied to dive deeply into the chaos of it all. His main goal is to get both of them out of harm's way.

He manages to step onto sandy shores just as a thin layer of ice bites at his heels.

"_Prince,_" She calls again.

It finally hits him — Ariel.

She sounds alarmed. A thought comes to Hans' mind, _She's part fish_, and a split second later, he thinks, _Is she suffocating?_ Did he miscalculate?

When he had put his plan into motion, plucked her from the waters, he didn't consider her _condition,_ too used to seeing her head above the waves. Maybe he shouldn't have acted so quickly? Maybe he should have stopped and made some sense. Sometimes it's a merit to act hastily, but other times, it reminds him of his brothers taunts that he doesn't use his brain enough.

But then he remembers: her tale of being human. Relying on Ariel's word, of her ability to venture on land whenever she pleased, Hans _hopes_ that Ariel will not expire so soon.

He asks her, "You can breathe, can't you?"

"I can." She answers, still flung over Hans' shoulder, drenching a wet spot.

He exhales in relief. She's safe — for now.

"Why did you take me away from the sea?" Ariel asks suddenly.

If Hans could look at her, he would have given her a stern expression. _I saved you._ He thinks, and she moves in a manner, like she's just read his mind.

"I would not have perished from the cold." She adds.

"You've never seen ice like this." He says, trying to justify himself and his reckless act. He's trying to speak from experience. "It's magic."

"Magic?" Ariel repeats.

Hans nods, but a rock of uncertainty still rests at the pit of his stomach. Did he make a mistake? Is it his bad luck catching up to him? His endless talent for making messes? Or …

He shakes his head. He needs to think logically. Even if he misread the situation, he _can_ still fix it. But first, he has to comprehend the unimaginable.

He angles his head towards the expansion and stares at the frozen ocean with **hard** emerald eyes. He starts to wonder — _Why is __**she**__ here and what does she want?_ Does Queen Elsa know of his residence on this land? Is this the final punishment despite all his labour and penance? Or is that all a coincidence? Life loves playing games with him.

"What is happening?" Ariel asks, snapping Hans from his string of thoughts.

_Nothing good,_ He replies in his head.

"I don't know," Hans answers. "But it could be dangerous,"

"Not all magic is dangerous," She says to him, like she knows better.

He raises an eyebrow before her green tail came in his view. He comes to a realisation and asks, "How are you still talking?" _Aren't you a fish out of water?_

"My tail has to touch the earth to be traded for human legs. Have you never wondered why I remain a mer-folk when perched on rocks?" Ariel explains.

"Ah, that makes sense." Hans says.

So, theoretically speaking, as long as Ariel does not make any contact with land, she'll probably remain as she is: webbed hands, crocodile lids and sharp mouth.

His mind starts to wander again as he adjusts her weight on his shoulder and stares at the ocean's frozen surface. The scenery reminds him of the fjord back in Arendelle and how Princess Anna is not one to stop when determined. She chased and followed her sister all the way up the North Mountain, she could do the same with him. He grits his teeth.

What's he to do next?

His mind swirls with new notions and questions. What should he do now? He is still a prisoner, he could be caught. Can he escape?

Or, in better words, is there a way for him to escape with Ariel?

"Are you in any hurry to return to the sea?" Hans asks.

She bites her lower lip, sharp teeth protruding. Maybe he shouldn't have asked such a thing. Even if she were in a hurry, there is no way to break through the ice, it is too thick. He can't help but imagine Ariel clawing her way towards the ice and hitting her tiny fists against the frozen surface, a futile act.

"I am alright," She answers. He hopes she is not putting up a brave front to hide her fear.

"I …" He starts but trails of slightly.

He tells himself to be reasonable. He can't reveal too much; that he thinks of her like a little sister to him. That he will be riddled with guilt if she becomes sad, and that he cannot just leave her stranded. He's lost his home, he knows the feeling, he can't leave her in a similar situation. If there is no other option, he'll take her with him no matter the cost.

"I'll find a way to bring you back to home," He promises.

"Alright,"

He nods back. _Alright, _He seems to say.

His mind starts working out a new plan. There's no way out of the beach except up the deprecating church stairs. He could attempt to carry her. If the action doesn't tire him, it could go well. But there are other risks. If he's not careful, he might slip on the crumbling steps and send them both falling into the rocks below or against the icy floor. Could he jeopardize their lives like that? Is it worth the danger?

Even if he managed, there's also the factor that it would be incredibly awkward to see him walk around with a mermaid in his arms. What would people say? Will they both be condemned as monsters?

Could he hide her obvious underwater figure? Dress her up? The church had spared him with clothes, maybe they could do the same with her?

Or could he let her rest somewhere while making a dash to get her a long dress that will hide her tail? But where? There are no large rocks like the one she sunbaths on when he reads to her. Does the log he frequently sits on could constitute as 'land'? What about the steps of the church? The barnacled covered rock Ariel had first crashed into is frozen, her damp body could stick to it.

"If I leave you somewhere on this beach, will you remain a mermaid?" Hans asks Ariel.

"I don't see anywhere I could, I will gain my legs."

If it was inevitable, she may as well walk with him to a new seaside location. The best bet is for Ariel to use her human disguise. But then he'll have to consider another drawback. With her voice gone, it will be unlikely for them to communicate properly. Ariel's illiterate, they'll have to rely on facial expressions, and perhaps a rushed game of charades.

He tells her. "You're not very heavy but I doubt I'll be able to carry you. I don't want to keep you here, you'll have to walk."

"Will we explore the near-by village?" Ariel asks, excitement lacing in her words.

This is no time for an adventure but … if time is on their side.

"Are you up for it?" He asks, ready to put her down.

"Wait!" She cries out, her tail curling in a curve, webbed hands clutching on the back of his shirt. "Before we explore the village, I have to tell you, I can only walk on land for … a number of days."

Pins prick at his legs and the hair on the back of his neck stands. This sounds serious. "How many days?"

She goes silent. Finally, she whispers her answer. "... Three …"

"Three days?!" Hans cries back. It took a whole week for Queen Elsa to end her 'Eternal Winter', they might not have three days! What —?

"That is the second condition by the sea witch," Ariel says.

"What happens if you're on land for more than three days?"

Ariel pauses, Hans could envision the frown on her face. "I perish."

;;

**Notes 1: **Not only did this document choose not to save but also deleted itself ENTIRELY so I screamed into the abyss for like a month. I wanted to commit murder at five AM. Then later I realised I could look at Google Doc trash and pieced everything together, but I was still supremely angry.

**Notes 2:** According to the original **The Little Mermaid**, there is no three day limit, that's 100% **Disney**.** Hans Christian Andersen** writes 'the first morning after he (the prince) has married someone else, your heart will break, and you will become foam on the water' but for the sake of keeping this fic short — Ariel will have three days.

— **9 January 2020**


	5. v - Hell is near the ocean

**Notes 1: **So, when Ariel turns human in this chapter, she's not going to be butt ass naked. When she's human, her scales shed like Selkie skin, except that Ariel doesn't exactly shed her skin. Remember at the end of **The Little Mermaid **where King Triton was like "Magic fork, do your thing!" and Ariel was bibbidi bobbidi boo-ed into a silver dress? That's the concept I imagine Ariel's mermaid scales to morph into(ish), except that it's green like her tail because — Triton, I know the mer-folk don't have clothes but I am disappointed in your taste in fashion!

In **iii**, I mentioned that Ariel's scales cover a lot of her body, this is the reason why. I wanted to re-designed her outfit with a distinct shape in mind _and_ deal with the nakedness issue in advance. She's keeping her dress on her the entire journey, I'm not going to make her dump her clothes aside like some skinny dipping fool! I'm not gonna give her a new dress either, we're on a time crunch and I ain't got no time to play dress-up, we're going to go out into the world looking like hobos and that's that!

;;

**think human**

;;

**v**

**Hell is near the ocean**

;;

He had offered to carry her, if not for a day then for an hour at best, but she had insisted otherwise; squirming out of his hold before he can scold her properly. If they were in another situation, Hans could imagine Ariel struggling out of his grip as a sea creature would, comically flailing and then hitting him on the nose to get away.

"We don't know how much of the ocean is covered by ice, I can't let you waste your time," He reasons.

"Do not act insane. You cannot do as you please." She replies, scolding him as he did with her.

Hans knows Ariel means no harm, yet the word 'weak' brands him once more. He's recovered since his brush with death, but he still feels insignificant despite his odds.

"These terms and conditions; the mer-folk do not question it," Ariel tells him. "It has been embedded in us for centuries. It has existed before I became an embryo. It is up to our mother, the sea, to turn to harm or health."

If Hans' hands weren't occupied, he'd be clenching them. However, they're still busy, balancing the little mermaid on his increasingly aching shoulder. He doesn't know if he can afford her silence. But, he understands what Ariel is trying to tell him; there are no absolutes, they should act now while the damage is still fresh.

So he lets go, and her scales transforms into a dress that covers her arms and reaches her ankles; it's the same shade as her fishtail too — sea green, lustrous, alien-looking.

She wobbles like a new-born foal, wincing when her human legs touch soft sand. He extends his arms, ready to catch her, but she refuses. As soon as she senses the smallest hint of benevolence, she becomes as graceful as a dolphin, flitting away from his helping hands. She wants to do this on her own, she wants to pretend to be _human_; grabbing the folds of her disguise and imitating a hallowed maiden dancing in fields of green.

She smiles at him brightly; shark teeth deadly, voice mute and intentions too childish to comprehend.

;;

When they reach the village square, the havoc displayed is almost eerily similar to the one Hans had witnessed in Arendelle — parents rushing their children indoors, old men scratching their heads as they gaze out at the solid waves, the devoted praying and hoping Hell hasn't frozen over.

The scene sends Hans back to a time he wishes did not exist; where there are no masters or kings; only a madness in a sword and a demand for sacrifice.

_Snap out of it, you fool! _Hans berates himself, shaking his head and trying to gain sound ground. He races for an idea, a tactical advantage. The distraction is a good opportunity, he and Ariel can easily blend with the crowd before slithering away.

Too bad Ariel dances away from him like she did at the shore. She is all over the place — touching puppets and warm bread; laughing without sound at the pandæmonium; stealing a silver fork before twisting it in her fiery hair and revealing a pointed ear. She is just as free on land as she was in the water, lifting her arms in the air as if swimming, or attempting to fly; twirling and spinning in circles; not caring when her feet loses its footing. She is buoyant and doesn't seem all that bothered by the bruises she inflicts on herself, it appears that even earning cuts and scrapes piques her curious mind.

"Come on, we don't have time for this." Hans urges. He needs to keep her by his side, he needs to make sure she doesn't run off and do something regrettable.

'But I have legs now!' Ariel's facial expression reads.

"We'll dance later," Hans says, it sounds like a promise he'll have to keep.

Her eyes go wide with glee. Unable to answer with words, she grabs his open palm and takes his offer.

Now that their fingers are interlocked, Hans turns his head, trying to figure out how they'll progress; weaving through large bodies of people will be difficult. But then — Hans sees an opening: alleyways.

He walks with her along the crowd, hand in hand, she's swinging her arm a little and clicking her tongue as if she's humming a merry tune. The gesture reminds him of when he was small, of when either his mother or Lars would reach out and squeeze his palm. It was always a rare moment, but Hans recalls how he had assured them that he would be on his best behaviour. Back then, he would have done _anything_ to be held so closely like that.

_This_ reminds him of the family he wants. Ariel reminds him too much, the resemblance is uncanny.

Too occupied by his daydreams and tunnel-vision, he doesn't notice three figures trailing after them until a sword is pressed to his throat.

;;

Hans stills, cold metal tilting his chin at the sky and the setting sun. The alley blocks out most of the noise and any chances of being spotted.

"Don't make any sudden movements," A feminine voice warns, speaking from behind him.

Her blade is _too close_ to a pulsing vein, Hans knows the risk of acting foolishly, and lets the stranger guide him. He moves slowly and with caution; acting as a barrier, with Ariel in a small pocket of space between his back and a wall.

The two other figures appear in the corner of his vision, each on an opposite side of the narrow passage. Hans almost laughs, there's nowhere else to go. The chances of being rescued are slim. Not that anyone _would _save them, Hans thinks, his only other friend is an old nun. No, if anything, they're trapped like rats. There's nothing to be offered here.

"I don't have any money," He says.

"I don't want your money." The person answers, taking a step that's a little into his view.

And for a moment, Hans is almost afraid that the stranger would say something threatening, something along the lines of 'I want the girl,' so he forces himself to face his enemies.

His emerald eyes sweep over the trio. Princess Anna with her hair down, abandoning her childish pigtails, a mighty blade in her freckled hand; Queen Elsa with her platinum blonde hair tied in a ponytail and a new ice attire that clings onto her pale skin — and there's a brawny blonde man. If Hans' memory isn't betraying him, this same man was also on the boat when the Eternal Winter was thawed.

Hans is not all that surprised to see them, it looks like he's right about the source of the chill.

"No funny business." Anna continues, fiercely staring daggers at Hans.

A sarcastic retort of 'I wouldn't dream of it!' rises up his throat, but Hans quickly swallows it back down. Just because he had predicted their involvement with the cold catastrophe, it doesn't mean he's out of danger. He underestimated them once, he can't do that again.

Not to mention, he's worried about Ariel's fate. Is three days not short enough? Must they be slain _here_, in a claustrophobic alleyway, like filth?

Making the wrong move could literally lead to death, Anna's weapon is by no means for decoration. It's not just his life that he has to take into account now, it's Ariel's life too. He tells himself that she'll die without him.

With this caution, Hans doesn't dare release a breath; standing as still as a statue, eyes calculating, sweat beading down his neck and heart racing. He contemplates on what to do next. This won't be easy — from the expression Anna is making, Hans can tell that she's ready to spit venom at him. It's a reasonable reaction, fair even, he did cause her a lot of heartaches.

Anna won't believe Hans' intentions, no matter how good the cause is. Not that Hans himself can justify his action as 'goodness' because — now that he's thinking about it — it was rather _selfish_ of him to pull Ariel out of her world.

He knew fish could live under icy surfaces, he's seen the way they glide effortlessly in frozen ponds and lakes during Winter. What was he thinking pulling the poor girl into all this trouble? He owes Ariel this much for saving him and putting up with his existence.

Then, ever so slowly, Hans addresses the elephant in the room. "I recognise that you all hate me but —" His gaze darts away from Anna. "— Queen Elsa, could you to unfreeze the sea?"

;;

**Notes 2**: I'm seeing a similar theme in the comments in the last chapter, and I beg you — _reconsider,_ or read my **notes** from **i**.

**Notes 3: **This chapter is hilarious for two reasons if you break it down to a minimum —

1.

People on the island: We're all gonna die!

Ariel, without a care in the world: Wheeeee! :)

2.

Anna: Fight me!!!

Hans, disregarding his ex, basically closing his eyes: Oh hi, Elsa.

— **19 January 2020**


	6. vi - float in her words

**think human**

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**vi**

**float in her words, 'melted' she said**

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Anna scoffs loudly, ignoring her sister's stunned face. Anna asks her ex-fiancé, "Who do you think you are to start demanding things from us?"

Hans decides not to act as carelessly as he's already done today. He decides that — what he _needs_ to be is _reasonable_. What he _needs_ to do is share his agenda. Queen Elsa is _the cause_ of his grievances, she's the origin of this entirety, if he could reason with her royal majesty then he could persuade her to undo her magic on the icy surface. Ariel's three days of agony can be cut down to a mere hour, she'd be back in the sea in no time.

Watching the sword closely, Hans lifts his hands in surrender, frowning the whole way. Meanwhile, Ariel continues hiding behind his back, hissing without a melody.

"I'm not demanding, I'm asking." Hans replies, trying to sound civil when every fibre of his being **wants **to reply just as hotly as Anna had spoken to him.

She glares at him, perhaps irked by Hans shrinking back to his manners as he did in Arendelle — fierce turquoise blue eyes against his emerald green ones, and Hans thinks, he might have glared back too. Drat, this is not going the way he wants it to.

"What are you doing here?" Anna snaps, holding the handle of her weapon tighter.

"I could ask you the same thing," Hans replies.

Anna scoffs once more before she presses for an answer to her original question. "Don't make me ask twice." She tells him.

Ariel pulling on the hem of Hans' shirt causes him to slacken. _What are you doing here?_ The question repeats in his skull.

"I live here," He answers, because what other answer is there? He has no purpose elsewhere.

"Oh really?" Anna asks, speaking on behalf of everyone in the group. Or maybe everyone is speechless, too shunned at seeing Hans on this tiny island. What a coincidence? "Then why did you want Elsa to unfreeze the ocean? You're planning on making a great escape, aren't you? Do you plan to sail away without any repercussions?" Anna accuses, as if _he_ is the one who caused this Wintry disaster.

His expression hardens. Hans wants to answer with the same weight of spite, but he holds in it, teeth biting into his lower lip.

What's he to do? He _could_ spill his guts right here. He **wants** to believe that no one will end up hurt, because no one _needs _to get hurt; that he can explain himself then both he and Ariel can leave peacefully and be on their merry way. But he's not stupid enough to believe in easy happy endings. That's _too much _hopeful thinking.

No. What this is, or will be: is an interesting conversation.

He's not exactly a changed man, he still holds a lot of his old virtues. But, believe him when he says he regrets his actions. He _shouldn't_ be the villain this time, he would like it very much if he wasn't, but he wouldn't put it past the sisters to treat him as one. And he _will_ act the way he's treated.

Grovelling won't melt their history or enmity. He won't chastise himself to resort to cunning tactics if the situation calls for it.

But for now, he would rather not lie. Normally, in such circumstances, it would be _better_. Making him look neat and tidy would be_ better._ But look at where lying has gotten him. Look at what his problems with tight timing have caused him. The inability to think of the consequences to his actions has cost him more than he bargained for —proposing to Princess Anna the same day he met her; the jerk of his gloved hand when Weselton's men had unleashed an arrow, followed by a chandelier crashing on the floors of an ice castle; criminal disloyalty — all failures.

"This isn't about me." Hans says after much thought. His answer causes raised eyebrows. "This is about **her**." He gestures behind him. "Ariel needs to return to the sea."

"Did you say 'return to the sea'? _What?_" The blonde man gaps, he seems the most grounded among the bunch.

"She's a mermaid." Hans explains, to which the blonde man's jaw drops, Elsa goes through a series of face journeys and Anna glares once again.

"Don't believe him, Kristoff. He's obviously lying." Anna utters.

Hans wanted to snort at that. _Figures._

Anna then takes a peek at Ariel and addresses the redhead girl, "_Please,_ tell us your side of the story. Is Prince Hans threatening you? Are you forced against your will? We can help you!"

Ariel only stares, so Hans speaks for her, "She can't answer you, she's mute."

"You're —" Anna radiates fury and Hans almost smirks out of satisfaction. "— _joking_."

"I'm not joking; neither about Ariel being mute or a mermaid. Look, I know I sound crazy, but it's a simple task, Your Majesty," Hans says, ignoring Anna once more and making heads turn to Elsa. "Just redo what you did in Arendelle. You thawed the fjord, you can do it again."

Elsa's hands immediately clasps onto each other, fidgeting at the spotlight put on her.

"I urge you." Hans tries again. "Maybe I'm not making myself clear enough. Ariel can't stay on land very long. If she doesn't return home soon then she'll _perish_."

The group goes silent, contemplating on listening to Hans and his possible tall tales. Death is no small feat.

"How long does she have?" Elsa finally speaks up.

"Three days." Hans replies the adds quickly, "But you can save her if you help her _now._"

Elsa exchanges a glance with Kristoff, it's likely these two are the most considerate after seeing Anna wither away in front of their eyes.

Anna, however, does not waiver. "If the girl is what you say she is, then what's the problem? You say she needs to return to the ocean. Is the issue that she can't live without water? If that's the case, can't you just keep her hydrated?" Anna asks in a manner that makes Hans think that Anna's disregarding Ariel's worriments.

"Point me to the nearest body of water that isn't frozen solid and maybe it'll work." Hans answers, a little snarky. "I'm sure you're aware we're on an island approaching a snowstorm,"

Anna frowns, not appreciating his attitude. "Okay, then you can ask someone to boil water for you — since you claim the girl can't speak for herself — and pour it on her,"

With his patience thinning, Hans raises his voice in the process, answering, "It doesn't work like that!"

At least, he doesn't think so. He didn't think of springs or lakes or water from a well when he had agreed to let Ariel trade her tail. He should have considered the possibility, but Hans doesn't have the option of exploring.

In terms of letting Ariel sit in a hot bath, Hans doesn't have a house, much less a bathtub. He doesn't have the option of barging into someone's space and demanding to occupy their bathroom either. Speaking logically, there's no public place for Ariel to go to. Her fishy secret needs to be kept hushed, anyone without knowledge on magic and fable _could _and _would_ act rash.

(Hence why Hans was 'willing' to explain Ariel's origin to the trio)

And the other opinion of warm liquids? What's he going to do? Insist that hot soup be poured on Ariel? He's without coin. And it's likely that the village will want to ration their food. It's certainly smaller than a kingdom and needs more help surviving the approaching harsh weather.

"It needs to be seawater." Hans says firmly.

But Anna's expression remains unmoved, and Hans feels himself slipping. He's never been an even-tempered man, never as patient as a saint. The key to Ariel's problem is standing right in front of Hans, staring him in the face, but he can't act upon it. Not when Anna is ferociously blocking it; acting like she hadn't once been just as desperate as he is right this very moment. Anna had chased after her decision so quickly in the past, taking responsibility and going after Elsa without a second thought, why can't he do the same?

"Is this a joke to you?!" Hans asks, fury in his voice. His face turns red and the veins on his neck stands out. He doesn't even care if he's losing his state of mind while a dangerous blade is being pressed against his throat. This is about Ariel. He's been talking about the little mermaid this whole time, how does Anna not understand it? "I'm trying to save someone's life!"

"_Save a life?_" Anna snaps back.

"Yes!" Hans screams.

"Like you _didn't_ with mine?!" Anna challenges angrily, inching her blade closer. "Like you _didn't_ with Elsa's?!"

The temperature in the air drops. Elsa must be anxious. But, it seems so is everyone outside the heated debate.

"You're making this a personal matter! I don't have time for your silly tantrum; I admit I did _several _wrongs in the past, and I'm —" A muscle in his cheek jumps. "— _sorry_, but don't drag Ariel into this. She doesn't deserve your anger."

On cue, Ariel peeks from behind Hans' broad shoulders; there is fear in her sea green eyes. Elsa and Kristoff exchange another glance, probably agreeing that the look on Ariel's face reminds them of Anna's when the strawberry blonde was knocking on death's door.

But Anna does not catch this either. She is too busy holding Hans' gaze, her grip around her sword tightens.

"Well, I don't believe you." She tells him, "And I don't forgive you."

Considering his strained relationship with the sisters, Hans' bad reputation being a banished prince, and the fact that the girl he claims is a mermaid is mute — anyone would think he's a liar too. Really, the odds are against him. So much for playing a _completely_ honest man.

"So you're telling me I have to _convince_ you?" Hans proposes, seeing no other way if being truthful won't help him. He has to becunning then. He switches personalities so easily, like a chameleon, at the drop of a hat.

"Yes." Anna says in one breath, like she had decided right there and then.

Hans almost smirks at how _easy _it is to fool her (again), until:

"I can't just let you go prancing around at your own free will, you caused so much trouble the last time. You could get someone killed for real if I don't keep my eye on you." Anna decides.

_Wait._ Hans thinks, his triumph melting. This proposal is deviating itself very quickly, sooner than he expected.

And it seems that Elsa and Kristoff understands where Anna is going with her motion of thought because Elsa is wringing her hands nervously while Kristoff looks like he wants to end the conversation right there and then.

Anna continues, "I can't let you walk free, it was a mistake to let you return to the Southern Isles, they don't care about punishment or what you do to redeem yourself."

_Is she honestly talking about redemption right now?_ Hans thinks bitterly. _So righteous. So noble. _He mocks in his head.

"This time, you stay with us," Anna decides while Hans is caught up with his sour thinking. In the background, Kristoff lets out a loud sigh while the air gets chillier from Elsa's influence.

_What?_ Hans thinks when Anna's declaration dawns on him.

How did they come to this conclusion? Hold on, how could he forget? Anna's spontaneous nature had been the reason his chances were foiled in the past. Her unpredictability will be his downfall! Why did he think he could bend her to his will and get away with it? _Stupid!_ He's failing yet again!

"You're _kidding_." Hans challenges Anna, trying to backtrack. "I don't understand why you're taking the long way out of this. Did you not hear my explanation? I was proposing to lift the curse —"

"_Curse?!_" Anna gaps.

"— so that I could take Ariel to the shore and let you see her transform back into her original form!" Hans finishes, but it's_ too late._ He's stepped on a landmine, provoking Anna; out of the pan and into the fire!

The others have noticed the shift in the air as well. Neither Elsa nor Kristoff are willing to step in now, they recognised the animosity that radiates off Anna and Hans. They know how Anna gets when she's in this mood:she won't leave it alone until it's off her chest_. _All the two blondes can do is watch the heated match, afraid they'd get burned too. Ariel, on the other hand, barely understands. To her ears, it's a foreign language being spoken rapidly, unforgiving and raging.

"How can you call Elsa's magic a 'curse'?! My sister would never do such evil!" Anna states, a hunger in her voice, she's ready to tear Hans limb from limb.

"You told me she froze your heart!" Hans points out, not afraid to strike where it hurts.

"It was a misunderstanding!" Anna yells. Oh, they're really butting heads.

"What misunderstanding?!" Hans shouts back. "You went to look for the Queen, and when you came back, you had one foot in a grave!" The temperature drops as soon as those words leave his mouth.

"Because you left me to die!"

"No, because you let fantasies dictate your life! You let fairy tales and true love's kiss fill your head with nonsense! You _let_ her ice powers kill you!" Cold seeps into his skin. What he says isn't the whole truth, but it isn't far from it either.

"How dare you —!" Anna trembles. Is he trying to guilt her? Murder her with his mouth, his words? Anna is _this close_ to shedding blood. "How dare you speak of Elsa like that when just moments ago you were begging for her help!"

"I wasn't begging, I was asking!" Hans repeats himself. "But, you know what, I shouldn't have to! I should be following your principal, instead, no?! You're the one who believes a wrong should be righted! If Queen Elsa caused a Winter blanket upon the land then she should lift it!"

"She has lifted it!"

"Then what's _this_?" Hans says, exhaling a foggy breath as proof.

Anna bares her teeth. "What about you righting _your _wrong?! Your apology means nothing! You aren't the least bit sorry, are you?!"

No, he is. With his whole heart, he is _sorry_. But, he doesn't know if he feels bad for his actions or for the outcome. Hans feels like he's been paying for a crime long before he even committed it.

"Not under the circumstances you're putting us in!" He yells.

"_Us?!_ What 'us'?!"

"Ariel and I!"

"I —" Anna stumbles. She seems to be caught up and miscomprehend, but she's not one to back down. "What circumstances?!" She asks, copying Hans' tactic about misunderstandings. "I'm doing a greater good than you _ever_ will!"

"Greater good?! Why does your new plan require you to kidnap Ariel and I? Do you need to keep us by your side while you continue doing whatever it is that you're doing?! I'm not going to be your hostage!" Hans says. "You haven't caught me doing anything wrong, I live in a church for Christ's sake!"

"Yeah right!" Anna bellows.

"I am right!"

They're clearly trying to talk over each other, neither listening.

"You need to do better than that to convince me!" She states.

"I've told you the truth! I've explained and nudged and given you the benefit of the doubt —"

"All in a handful of minutes? How _very_ kind of you!" Anna jeers.

"— what other way is there to convince you?!"

"I —" Anna's words clog in her throat. Reason floods back into her like a gush. She started this _intense _shouting match due to Hans' appearance, and then her concern about Ariel. After that, things spiralled and Anna lost track of what her aim was. "I don't —" She tries again. "I don't know!" Anna finally admits, a little ashamed but mostly frustrated.

"You don't —!" He pauses to breathe. He thinks she's incredibly selfish with her affection, she's not even paying him any attention. "I can't believe I'm having this argument! I can't believe I'm wasting my_ life _squabbling about the past!"

Anna looks especially offended at the declaration.

Meanwhile, Hans goes deep into thought. He doesn't know where they're even going with this. It's crystal clear that Anna's shutting him out. To him, she **hates** everything he does and all he wants is to get out of this mess.

He wishes he could run his hand through his hair, but Anna still doesn't trust him and he can't dig himself deeper into this pit. "This isn't about me." He echoes his earlier words in a huff, a little calmer.

Anna's tense shoulders stay squared until Hans' last words sink into her. Her turquoise eyes slide over to the redhead girl still hiding. "Then let's make it about the girl." She's trying to show that she's usually not this vicious, not this crazy.

"Her name is Ariel." Hans corrects, he isn't sure if it'll go noticed.

Anna's mouth opens, as if considering the name, and then she closes it. She bites her lower lip before saying, "Convince us. _Convince us, _and we'll help you." She utters, lowering her weapon and sheathing it.

Hans snorts. "_I_ don't have to prove anything to _you_."

_How irritating. She just made the conversation about Ariel a minute ago then turned it around and made it about me again. _He thinks, still bitter.

There's a pause before Hans continues. "I don't care about you and you shouldn't care about me either. I have my own business to attend to and it doesn't include any of this time you're wasting, I'm not tagging along on your adventure,"

Elsa takes a step forward, startling the group. "Even if our answers lies the same place?"

Hans stares at her for a moment. But only for a moment, before saying, "I'm very sure I've said a few things about you that I can't take back."

"True, you've said some very stinging words." Elsa's glacier blue eyes lock with his. "But this isn't about you, right?"

A slow smile creeps on Hans' face. Anna had wanted to help Ariel from the very beginning, even if she got side-tracked a few times. But now, it looks like Elsa's gain a soft spot for Ariel as well. Hans believes Kristoff feels the same from the looks he threw at the Queen during Hans' spat with Anna. It appears Arrendellians are empathetic people, Hans doesn't know whether to be grateful about this fact or not.

"No, it isn't." Hans answers, he's finding this very amusing. "You're very determined about sticking together."

"Well, I trust my sister, and you're asking for something I don't know I can grant. It would be cruel to keep Ariel in the dark,"

"Oh?" He raises his brow. "And what is it that I'm asking that's too much? I'll admit, I have very limited knowledge on ice magic. Or any type of magic. All I remember is taking a nap on the fjord and waking up in Summer." He laments, wording it in a humorous way. He can't slip again. He can't lose his temper again. He refuses to remember the twisted feeling in his heart when he raised his sword.

Elsa looks at Anna, unsure of how to explain why the entire royal family has up and left their kingdom for a quest.

Anna puts a hand on Elsa's shoulders then speaks for her sister. "Elsa's been hearing … a voice."

"A voice?" Hans repeats in disbelief. He sounds unimpressed too. He would suggest, if Anna is going to come up with a tall tale, she may as well make up a good one.

"Yes, it's … calling her to the North." Anna replies, looking grim. "We need to go there. It's something to do with her powers and — Will you stop with that judgemental face, already? Look, I don't have to explain the story to you. It's _a thing_, and a lot to digest. Just know that Elsa doesn't have complete control of the magic happening right now."

_So you need to go and fix her powers in order to undo the second Eternal Winter?_ Hans' brows scrunch up. He will never understand the amount of power and control Elsa has on her ice magic.

But, the extra bit of input helps with their dire situation. His original play was to wander around, looking for a part of a non-icy ocean that he can reach on foot. If what Anna says is true, then it would be faster to travel with the source of the frozen sea rather than walk aimlessly; there's not much ground to cover on this isolated plane.

Now that he's wording it this way, it makes sense to go with them. They'll all get what they want — Anna gets to keep an eye on Hans, making sure he isn't the monster under her bed, while Hans gets to help Ariel live past the age of sixteen and not dying young. Truly, a win-win solution.

Except for the fact that they resentment each other. Hans wonders if that detail could be overlooked.

Anna seems to have read Hans' mind because she starts speaking up.

"Whether you despise this idea or not, we're heading the same way." Anna says, attempting to be neutral on the matter. "If you stay here then you'll be trapped on the island. Coming with us means finding seawater for the girl to … remain a mermaid." Anna says the sentence a bit sceptically before bouncing back to her reasoning. "Our ship is stuck near the dock, but we have our own tricks up our sleeves, we'll find a way to cross the ocean and go North. Kristoff's cart has plenty of room and Elsa is brilliant at conjuring. We're not a dream team but — you get it — we may as well go together."

Once again, Kristoff sighs loudly in the background. Hans finds himself agreeing to the misery.

There's logic in Anna's imagery but it's still a maddening idea; travelling with his enemies and a fish girl to an unknown land! Hans wants to scoff, but he can't. Whatever the sisters are offering him, it sounds like there's some truth to it. Even if he doesn't believe them, they would likely take Ariel with them. And where she goes, he goes.

Hans can't give up now. He _won't_. He's never been one to quit without putting up a fight, he's too stubborn for his own good.

Besides, he has his own voice. A conscience, the memory of his mother's face when he was shipped off, her expression begging him to turn a new leaf and make a better life for himself; _to be good._

"Fine." He accepts, "_Fine_. Ariel and I will go with you,"

Anna's lips form a straight line.

"_And_," Hans adds, maybe out of spite."I can convince you that I'm not all that bad." The temperature starts warming up at that note.

Anna nods. "We don't have a lot of time; you with your three days and us with our responsibilities. We'll try to prove a point. We'll give each party a day. If we still want to kill one another by the end of those 24-hours, you and _the mermaid_ can bail on the trip."

Hans catches the tone Anna used to describe Ariel (again) but doesn't comment on it. Hans knows Anna doesn't trust him or his words, she will not let her guard down easily.

"Alright," He says.

She double-checks, "You have one day, got it?" It's like she knows how ridiculous it sounds, even coming from her own mouth and her own creation.

"I can do it." He reaffirms.

"Can you?" Anna asks. However, what she means to say is, 'What can you do in one day?'

Hans struggles not to roll his eyes. "I got you to agree to marry me in a single day, didn't I?"

With that in the air; the tips of Anna's ears, her cheeks and neck, turns a shade darker than Hans' and Ariel's red hair combined.

;;

**Notes: **This was supposed to be part of **v **but it got too long and I decided to cut it short. Writing the flowery language is a challenge itself; the logic applied even more so. Still, proud that I've managed to update trice this month — this fic has been standing since **July 2019** but I've only updated SIX times so far.

My attention span is really not the best, I'm too used to writing one-shots and the need to update a long fic is … not working in my favour because I have to remember what I had previously written. The fact that I dreamed the entirely of this storyline the night of … I wanna say my birthday, so **March 2019 **(or maybe it was during one of my fevers?) is crazy. But even I don't know the true timestamp because I'm known to forget a lot of things. It took a while to even post this fic because I forget about it in my drafts, and because the dream in which this fic was conjured didn't have a lot of the middle parts, just the beginning and the ending (which I will wholeheartedly stick to because who am I to not follow a bunch of brain waves?), and incorporating everything from a dream into a plot is … messy?

Because I know myself, it'll be a while until I update again. But from my drafts, I'm inching into humour for frohana's sake, if I don't — then the gang _w__ill _kill each other. But, I really like the obvious fact that no one thinks the situation is ideal; Hans mostly. He doesn't even hide that he's disappointed, _almost always petty_ in an entertaining way and very confused about everything. He just gives out the vibe of 'Why am I stuck with these people?', it's _so dumb _but also _so much fun,_ their whole dynamic is hilarious! Really looking forward to updating, you guys.

— **21 January 2020**


	7. reply to guest

**guest**

Tell me this doesn't have to be another retelling of Disney's Frozen. Tell me this doesn't have to follow Disney's Frozen canon. Tell me this doesn't have to be Disney's Frozen all over again.

**reply**

canon over AU, is that you?? But no lol, people actually die in this fic and there are consequences. No one's being revived. I'm not afraid to kill my darlings.


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